A Reason to Live
by govgal
Summary: Neal becomes convinced that Peter is going to kill him after he unintentionally hurts Elle. Peter learns more about Neal's past through a case they are working on.
1. Chapter 1

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: So I don't think they've really given Neal any time to grieve. Hands shaking and a few distant stares don't cut it for me. If he really lost the love of his life, there would be major trauma and tears involved. I'm not saying he has to mope forever, but he should feel something. So this is my version of what might have happened.**

**Chapter 1**

6:00 am

Neal sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands seriously depressed; he couldn't even sleep. He had been passing the time he should have been sleeping pacing back and forth. He put his robe on and walked out on the terrace hoping that would help; it didn't. It wasn't that Peter, Elle, Mozzie or even June hadn't tried to cheer him up, but he just wasn't ready. He wanted to feel sorry for himself, sorry that he wasn't on the plane, sorry that he hadn't died with Kate in his arms… If only he could hold her one more time. He leaned back on the bed, closed his eyes and imagined he was holding Kate once more as tears slowly slipped down his cheeks and he finally fell into a restless sleep.

##

6:00 am

Elle snuggled closer to her husband, grateful for his warmth. She was also very thankful that Peter was still with her, and that he wasn't injured in the explosion that killed Kate and almost killed Neal.

"Honey, I really think something is wrong with Neal, he just isn't himself. I think he needs help."

Peter groaned softly as his wife brought up the subject he had been trying to avoid.

"There is nothing I can do for him Elle; he won't talk to me about it. You know I'm not good with this emotional stuff. I'm glad he won't talk to me, because I wouldn't know what to say. I don't think 'Cowboy Up' will cut it this time."

"You don't need to say anything, Peter. You just need to be there for him. Let _him_ know you are there for him. That doesn't always mean having the right thing to say."

"I can't do that Elle, it is totally out of my comfort zone. I have bad guys to catch and he is distracting me. I need to be on top of my game, not commiserating with an ex-con. He hasn't had any helpful suggestions on this case and he's getting in the way."

"Peter! I can't believe you just said that, Neal is the best thing that ever happened to you and the White Collar unit and he's your friend. Why don't you invite him to dinner? Drag him over if you have to and I will see if I can talk to him. He needs to know that his world hasn't ended and that we're still here for him. Tell him I'm making barbecued ribs for dinner.

##

Peter was concerned that Neal wasn't waiting for him outside on the steps when he pulled up. He shut the car off and knocked on the front door. He was even more concerned when the housekeeper told him she hadn't seen Neal all morning. Peter walked up the stairs and knocked softly on Neal's bedroom door. When Neal didn't answer, Peter tried the knob, found the door unlocked and slowly opened the door trying not to let the hinges squeak. He scanned the small apartment and his gaze finally rested upon a sleeping figure sprawled across the bed. Peter tiptoed over and gently shook Neal's shoulder.

"Hey, buddy. You need to get up now; I need your expertise on a case. I can't do it without you."

Neal groaned and pulled another pillow over his head trying to drown out Peter's voice.

"Neal! I know you can hear me, you have to get up."

"I don't care about your stupid case!"

It sounded like Neal was yelling, but his voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Go away and leave me alone!"

Peter thought about threatening to put Neal back in prison, but remembering Elle's invitation, he decided he didn't want to face her wrath when (not if) she found out.

"Neal, Elle wants you to come over for dinner tonight. She's making barbecued ribs just the way you like them."

"I don't like barbecued ribs!"

"Neal, stop being ridiculous, of course you do, you do not want to make Elle angry by slamming her barbecued ribs. They are the best in town."

"That's your problem. Not mine!"

"I have half a mind to call her right now and tell her you said that. I am sure she would not hesitate to come over here and talk some sense into you! You're acting like a spoiled child."

"Elle has more important things to do than to worry about me. Just please leave me alone Peter! I just want to be alone."

"Neal, get out of bed right this instant or we're going to be late!"

"I'm not coming. You're not letting me sleep."

Aside from physically manhandling him, Peter knew there wasn't much else he could do. Peter moved away from the bed and headed toward the door, deciding he was not going to win this argument. Elle was going to have his head; and he'd have to tell Hughes Neal was sick, _again_.

##

As soon as Peter had walked out the front door, he called his wife to give her the bad news.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Elle."

"How did it go with Neal?"

"Seriously I tried talking to him, but it was no use. He's too stubborn. He wouldn't even get out of bed this morning, and he had the audacity to tell me he doesn't like your barbecued ribs."

"That doesn't sound like Neal. I'm telling you something is definitely wrong. I can't come over right now because I have a meeting with a caterer at 10 am, but I will see if I can swing by Neal's place around noon."

"Thanks honey, I just…I don't know how to help him. He isn't listening to reason. He said he just wants to be alone. I think that's the worst thing that could possibly happen, but I don't know what else to do. He definitely didn't want me there."

"Why don't you just go to work this morning, and I will see what I can find out at noon. I'm sure you can manage without him. You do remember working without him right? He was in prison for four years, and you did have other cases before he escaped, remember?"

"Yeah, I know, I guess I just gotten used to him being there. I'll ask Jones and Diana what they've found so far. I'll talk to you later."

"Ok, I love you Peter."

"Love you too."

As Peter hung up the phone, he realized how much Neal had come to mean to himself and Elle. How had he ever functioned without Neal's opinion? It struck him that Neal was going through the same type of ordeal, but a thousand times worse. While Peter was missing his partner, Neal was dealing with the love of his life not only being gone, but obliterated by a bomb that was more than likely meant for both of them. He couldn't even imagine what that was like, and felt faint as his brain processed the possibility of him losing Elle. He couldn't go there…it was simply unbearable. Worse yet, he didn't have the slightest idea how to help Neal. He really hoped that Elle, the love of _his_ life, would be able to get through to his partner and friend.

##

Neal wasn't able to get back to sleep after Peter left. He felt guilty because Peter had said he needed his help, but he just didn't feel like he had anything to contribute. Even worse, if he actually went to the bureau, he was sure he wouldn't be able to control his emotions and probably would embarrass himself or take out his frustrations on one of his co-workers. He was sure Peter could solve the case anyway; why was he needed? Did he really have any useful advice to offer? His head was hurting; he just wanted to go back to sleep, but the memories of the plane exploding kept running through his head.

He excavated himself out of his den of blankets and pillows, slipped his feet into his slippers and shuffled into the bathroom. He really had a headache and his nose was stuffed up; maybe some allergy medicine would help. It couldn't hurt, right? Neal fumbled with the child proof cap. Why did these things always have to be so difficult? He finally got the bottle open, and quite a few spilled out into his hand. He decided that two wasn't going to cut it. He settled on four and put the rest back in the bottle. Hopefully he could go back to sleep and forget about everything. He padded over to the kitchen pill bottle in hand. He noticed a bottle of Merlot on the counter. Wait…was there some left? He realized there was. He picked up the bottle, not bothering to find a glass and emptied the bottle to help with the pills. He slowly shuffled out onto his patio. A ten million dollar view of New York and he couldn't even appreciate it right now. He couldn't appreciate the breeze through his hair, the sounds of the city, or the bustle of the people on the street below. He had lost his reason to live; nothing mattered anymore. He couldn't even enjoy the thrill of chasing a suspect, figuring out how it was done and slyly figuring out how he could have done it better. It just didn't matter anymore. He slumped down in the chair and put his head on the table.

##

Elle finished her meeting with the caterer a few minutes early, and decided that the plans for the upcoming gala could wait another afternoon… she really felt the need to go check on Neal. She took a taxi over to June's mansion since Peter always had the Taurus. She hurried up the steps and rang the doorbell impatiently waiting for the housekeeper to answer. The door swung open to reveal June standing there.

"I'm so relieved to see you Elle, I've been getting worried about Neal, he hasn't come down yet, and it was very quiet up there until about 15 minutes ago or so, when he started yelling. I wasn't sure what to do. I was just about to call you."

"Peter had mentioned he wasn't doing well this morning, so I thought I'd swing by on my lunch break. I'll see what I can do."

The door was slightly ajar when Elle reached the top of the stairs. She could hear Neal screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Why? Why did she have to die? I loved her!"

She could hear him pacing back and forth on the floorboards. She knocked lightly, but was fairly certain Neal hadn't heard her. She pushed the door a little farther open and was startled when a wine bottle came out of nowhere and smashed into the door jam at chest level, sending shards of glass everywhere. Fortunately, she was still wearing her sunglasses which protected her eyes, and she was wearing a long skirt and boots which helped to protect her legs.

Neal came into full view with a look of horror on his face, and for just an instant Elle was terrified that he was actually going to hurt her for barging in on what was obviously an intensely private and painful moment for him.

The look of horror remained plastered on Neal's face for what seemed like an eternity before he collapsed to the floor with his head in his hands, mumbling something unintelligible. Elle skillfully avoided the remnants of the broken bottle and knelt beside him. She became increasingly concerned when she touched his shoulder and didn't get any response or acknowledgement from him.

"Neal, its Elle. I'm here to help you. Peter asked me to check on you because we are both concerned about you!"

There was still no response from Neal, save for a low groan.

"Neal, what's wrong, what's happening? How can I help?"

Elle decided this might take a bit longer so she sat down on the floor, took her sunglasses off, and set her purse down within reach. She pulled Neal into her lap and cradled his head with her arms.

"Neal, I know you loved Kate, I know you did, but sometimes we just can't understand why things happen the way they do. I don't know why some people survive accidents and others don't. I don't have all the answers. I know Peter and I don't go to church much, but I do believe there is a higher power at work in our lives. I just can't explain it, but I do know what it's like to lose someone you love. We are both here for you to help you through this - no matter what. That's what good friends are for."

Neal finally opened his eyes and looked at Elle.

"Peter's gonna hate me. He's never gonna trust me again. He's gonna think I'm a danger to society, and he's right. I don't know what I'm capable of at the moment. I just got so angry and I couldn't control it. You could have been seriously hurt Elle. I…I hurt you. It's all my fault. You…Kate…all my fault…How…How can I…I live with myself? You have to leave Elle, leave before I do something else. Peter will never forgive me."

Elle could see tears streaming down his cheeks as he begged her to leave.

"Please…Please just go. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe me."

Elle shifted Neal's head still cradled in her arms so that she could look down in his eyes. She was horrified at the look of absolute despair wallowing in his eyes. She had never seen him look so defeated. Despite him begging her to go, Elle couldn't force herself to leave him in this condition. She realized that he was as much a danger to himself as he was to her, and she would be very upset if he did something after she left that could have been prevented. No, there was no way that she could leave.

It was not the first time that Elle had realized Neal brought out those motherly instincts that she thought were buried deep down. Despite the fact that she and Peter had never had kids, she had a definite mothering instinct for anything having to do with Neal. She let out a soft sigh while trying to figure out the best course of action when she heard soft snoring and realized that Neal had fallen asleep in her arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**Chapter 2**

Elle pulled out her cell phone from her purse that she could just barely reach without dislodging Neal from her lap. She dialed the house number and June picked up on the first ring.

"Oh, Elle, I'm so glad you called I was worried, but I didn't want to intrude. How is he?"

"Not good at all. He fell asleep in my lap, but he seems exhausted and not himself. He threw an empty bottle of wine at the door and it shattered, but I'm sure he had no idea I was standing there. He felt horrible about it."

"Let me come up and we'll see if we can both get him back in bed."

It only took June a minute or two until she was standing by Elle's side giving her a worried look.

"Oh my goodness! Elle, you're bleeding!"

June hurried over to the sink and wet several paper towels and brought them back to Elle to help stop the bleeding from the cut glass that had torn into her skin.

Elle had been so focused on helping Neal that she hadn't felt anything. She hadn't noticed she was bleeding in several places, although nothing serious. Neal must have seen the blood and realized that she'd been hurt.

June dabbed at several spots on Elle's arms and face trying to be careful, although she didn't see any big chunks of glass that had embedded themselves in Elle's skin. She also checked Elle's long dark hair for any easily removable pieces of glass, but didn't see any.

##

Elle wouldn't let go of Neal, but allowed June to bandage some of the deeper cuts on her arms, but not her face. She didn't want to be completely covered in bandages, because she knew it would freak Peter out. She also refused June's offer of driving her to the clinic just to make sure she was ok. She felt fine and didn't want to leave Neal's side.

June got out her broom and dustpan and swept up the remaining glass pieces from the bottle; throwing them in Neal's trash can before they even attempted to move Neal from his position on the floor.

Both ladies were trying to determine the best course of action to move the sleeping conman without waking him up. They finally admitted defeat as they simply weren't strong enough. Elle decided to stay on the floor with Neal; his head still in her lap.

"Thanks June…for everything. I just can't leave him like this. He's a danger to himself more than to us. Maybe I should call Peter and give him an update."

"Why don't you do that? I'll just be downstairs. Call me if you need anything."

Elle nodded gratefully as she reached for her phone again to call Peter. She got his voicemail, told him where she was and asked him to call her back. He was probably in a meeting and she wasn't about to leave a message describing what had happened.

Elle hadn't expected Peter to get to June's so soon, but June escorted him up as soon as he arrived and Elle was glad for the help.

Peter found his wife on the floor with several band-aids on different spots on her arms, dried blood on her cheeks with his partner's head in her lap sound asleep. He was furious when Elle told him about the wine bottle breaking right in front of her, and the state of mind his partner had been in when she had arrived at June's mansion. How dare Neal try to hurt his wife! Elle loved him like a son, and this is how he repays her?

Elle had told him they hadn't been able to get him off the floor, so Peter had scooped Neal up and dumped him on the bed a little rougher than he probably should have. The move didn't faze Neal at all though and he continued to peacefully snore while Peter walked back toward Elle and June.

Elle hadn't expected him to be so mad at Neal, but then again, it _was_ Peter and he usually overreacted a bit with anything having to do with Neal; especially since she was involved and he thought she was hurt.

"Peter…Honey?"

Elle was trying to distract her husband from what she could see were turbulent storm clouds racing across his features.

"I know what you are thinking, but Neal didn't hurt me. I'm fine."

"Didn't hurt you? Then why are there band-aids and dried blood on your cheeks? What did you think I was going to say? You're not fine! This was a bad idea; I never should have let you come over here. I should have known this would be a problem. He was totally out of line today Elle. He disobeyed a direct order when I asked him to get up because we had work to do on a case. He covered his head with a pillow and told me he didn't care about the case, he didn't want your barbecued ribs, and it was my problem, not his. I had to cover for him with Hughes this morning. Now he goes and throws a wine bottle at my wife? That is completely unacceptable! I ought to throw his butt back in jail where it belongs."

Elle got up and started rubbing her husband's back between the shoulder blades to try and lighten the tension she could feel taking up residence there.

"Have some compassion, Peter. I know that's not your first instinct, but he has been through a lot. He just needs some time to heal. Losing Kate was very traumatic for him."

"He's a dangerous felon, Elle. I should have known this was going to happen. I should have known that he would stop at nothing to find Kate. Now he's not going to stop until he destroys himself grieving or getting revenge for Kate's murder. He's just dangerous Elle. You could have been seriously hurt. You don't know what he's capable of under these conditions."

"That's exactly why he needs help, Peter. He doesn't need to go back to jail, that will only make him more desperate and he'll escape again. He needs _us_, he needs someone to listen, someone to understand!"

Elle's voice got just a little louder at the end because she was beginning to get more than a little annoyed at her husband. Why couldn't he understand that Neal just needed someone to listen - not more punishment? She was convinced that Neal hadn't meant to hurt her, but Peter wasn't so sure.

"If I may contribute my two cents…"

June tentatively began hoping to reign in the situation before tempers really got out of hand.

"I agree with Elle. I think Neal needs someone to listen and not judge him; someone that cares about him no matter what he does. I know he would never intentionally harm either Elle or me, but we need to help him be more in control emotionally. He needs to feel safe; he needs to talk about it and he needs to know that we are not going to judge him for whatever he says or does. He doesn't need to feel threatened by going back to prison for this. Yes, he should probably apologize for his actions, but most importantly I think he needs to feel safe and loved. Somehow we have to make him understand he is not alone, and he doesn't have to deal with this alone. Any type of punishment will only alienate him and make him withdraw further."

"I think that was more than two cents…"

Peter muttered this to no one in particular, but Elle punched him in the shoulder anyway.

"Clearly that's why Neal doesn't feel safe. Why must you always have some degrading comment, and to June no less? Apologize right now or you're sleeping downstairs on the couch tonight."

Peter gave June a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry June, I don't know what has come over me, I think its lack of sleep. This case is driving me nuts, and Neal isn't helping matters."

"You're forgiven, Peter."

June said this with a smile on her face, as she patted his shoulder.

"We just need to make sure Neal knows that he is forgiven for his actions and that we love him and care for him. I don't think he's had anyone like us before and he isn't used to being cared for; he doesn't know how to deal with it. What we need to give Neal is a reason to live."


	3. Chapter 3

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**Chapter 3**

Neal woke up to a really bad headache. He realized he was in his own bed, but didn't remember how he got there; his mind seemed really fuzzy. He laid there for a few more minutes while he tried to sort out what he remembered before he had fallen asleep. Thoughts of a wine bottle flitted through his brain; he and Mozzie both appreciated a good bottle of wine, but he couldn't quite remember what that had to do with anything. He also started thinking about Elle, but wasn't sure where she fit in. His mind kept whirring, but he became frustrated that he couldn't connect all the random pieces in his mind.

Suddenly, it hit him and he sat straight up in bed, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Elizabeth had startled him just as he had felt a surge of anger and regret over Kate's death. He had flung the empty bottle of Merlot at the door; not realizing she was there. He could have killed her! What was he thinking? He felt sick to his stomach; waves of nausea passing over him as he remembered what had almost happened. How was he ever going to explain this to Peter?

Neal put his head in his hands and let himself cry. He was a failure. He had failed Kate - his whole world, his existence, his reason for living. He cried for the future they would never have, and the past he would never forget. She had been taken from him so violently and he would never see her smiling face again, never kiss her tenderly, or run his fingers through her beautiful hair.

He had failed Elle as well, a woman who had taken him under her wing like a son and in a fit of rage, he had almost killed her.

He was certain that Elle would tell Peter and he was also certain that Peter was going to be furious. He just might be mad enough to try and stick him with an attempted murder charge, and Neal knew that Peter had him dead to rights; the word 'alleged' would not be coming up in the conversation. Neal had gotten himself into a situation where he had no idea how to fix it; he knew he couldn't sweet talk his way out of this one. He had really screwed up, and he was never going to forgive himself. He felt himself spiraling out of control…how had he let himself sink this far? He, Neal Caffrey, conman extraordinaire, was a master of control, a master of his emotions, and yet he felt his whole world crashing around his feet; his façade shattered and completely in ruins.

A thought suddenly hit him…his feet…he remembered standing in broken glass. He remembered he was wearing slippers, but he could feel it under his feet as he had walked closer to the door. He remembered a look of horror on Elle's face. Carefully he put his feet down on the side of the bed to check for broken glass. He might as well clean up before he figured out what to do to extricate himself from Peter's wrath. Neal carefully made his way toward the kitchenette, looking over to his right toward the doorway, but he couldn't find any remnants of the broken wine bottle. Hmmm. That was strange, had he dreamt that? He was really starting to get confused. How was he supposed to figure out what was real and what was a figment of his imagination? He really needed this headache to go away. He reached for the bottle of allergy medication on the counter and took two more.

##

Peter, Elle and June had finished the tea and scones long ago, but they had continued to softly chat. Peter occasionally wandered around the rooftop terrace soaking in the view. He stopped by Elle's chair to give her a hug from behind, not because she really needed one, but because he wanted to touch her again. He wanted to make sure that she was still ok without having to admit the wine bottle incident had shaken him up more than he cared for.

"I think I'm going to check on Neal. You can keep up your womanly conversations."

Both Elle and June laughed; that was fine with them.

##

Neal was standing near the table when he was startled by a noise; he turned his head toward the terrace and saw Peter entering. Neal's first thought was that Peter had come to either kill him or put him back in prison for the wine bottle incident with Elizabeth; not even stopping to think that Peter had come in from the roof terrace and not the apartment door. His face showed stark terror for several seconds before it was replaced with a more innocent look.

Peter noticed Neal's horrified expression and how long it lasted before it was replaced by his what-did-I-do look. Wow, Peter thought, he's even more messed up than I thought if he can't conceal his emotions better than this.

Neal, with his innocent look plastered on his face, really thought that Peter was going to kill him as

Peter advanced into the room.

"What do you know about 'The Little Street'?"

Neal's fuzzy brain was busy over analyzing…Is this where he means to kill me or does he want to do it with witnesses? He had just noticed that Elle and June were talking out on the terrace, and he hoped that Peter would be smart enough not to hurt him in their presence. Neal was trying to remember where the nearest dumpster was and if that was where Peter was planning on stashing his body. The name of the street sounded odd though, and Neal didn't remember it. Why would he want him to know about 'the little street' if he was just taking him back to jail though…that didn't make sense either. Neal's head was swimming and he was desperately trying to recall how much of the Merlot he had consumed last night with Mozzie and if that was why his head was so fuzzy.

"Neal? Neal!"

Neal was so out of it, he didn't even hear the first time Peter called his name. His eyes tentatively sought out Peter's face; Peter noticed the desperation in Neal's eyes, and lost his train of thought.

"Neal, are you ok?"

Peter had a slight smirk on his face, but Neal was far too embarrassed thinking that it could only get worse; he _was_ only wearing his silk pajama bottoms and a bathrobe. Did Peter have any decency? Certainly Peter didn't intend to kill him outside in his pajamas and a bathrobe?

Neal was beginning to feel a bit queasy, and noticed the room shifting before he passed out at Peter's feet.

##

"Neal. Hey, Neal!"

Neal was very confused. He didn't feel dead, but he didn't feel great either. His eyes finally focused and discovered that Peter was bending over him. He realized somehow he had ended up on the floor. What did Peter do to him? Neal pushed himself along the floor trying to scoot away from Peter as quickly as possible, but Peter only needed to take a few steps to catch up with the figure on the floor. Neal didn't even try to hide the terror in his eyes.

"The Marshall's can track my anklet…They'll find my body. You can't just dump me somewhere and think no one will find me."

"Yeah, that's kind of the point Neal…to track where you are…you know just in case you decide to run."

Run? How on earth did Peter expect him to run? Wait…if he ran, Peter would be forced to shoot him. It would look justified instead of outright murder. He had really underestimated Peter, but there was no way he could run in his condition. He needed to buy some time, time to get his strength back and figure out what to do before Peter finished the job. As pathetic as begging sounded, Neal couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Peter? Please…Please don't kill me right now. Please, just let me go back to prison. Peter, I swear I wasn't trying to hurt her! I just…I just didn't know she was there! I swear; I didn't mean to hurt her."

Neal paused to take a deep breath trying to calm himself down; he was hyperventilating, and Peter was starting to look fuzzy again, but not before Neal could see a smile appearing on Peter's face; that was definitely not a look of sympathy. Neal gave up…why would Peter believe him? He closed his eyes, curled into a fetal position trying to protect himself as much as possible and waited for the worst; his muscles tense as he waited for whatever Peter was going to do to him. He relaxed slightly when it occurred to him that he would finally be with Kate. How ironic. Peter had prevented him from running toward her after the explosion, and now Peter was the one who was going to kill him; to allow him to be with Kate forever.

Peter was desperately trying not to laugh. At first, he hadn't understood Neal's comment about the Marshall's and his anklet. It seemed to be a no brainer, but then he could see that Neal's whole body was tense, as if waiting for something bad to happen. He realized that Neal really did think he was going to kill him. He had never seen Neal this bent out of shape - ever. However, laughing was the worst possible thing he could do at the moment; he had to show Neal that this was not the end of the world that he believed it to be.

Peter walked back out to the terrace and asked Elle to come inside.

"There is something really wrong with Neal. He's lying on the floor curled up into a fetal position. He asked me not to kill him. Clearly he's not firing on all cylinders. I think he might be more receptive to you."

Elle walked back into the apartment with Peter and got down on her knees for the second time that day to comfort Neal. She lightly shook one of Neal's shoulders; he did seem really tense.

"Neal? It's Elle. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

It took Neal a moment, but finally she could see that he had cracked one eye open just enough to verify that it was indeed her.

"Where's Peter?"

"He's still here, he hasn't left."

"He's trying to kill me. I…I think he drugged me, cause I can't think, but that's ok. I just..just wanna to be with Kate."

"Kill you? What on earth would I kill you for?"

Neal apparently didn't realize that Peter could hear him. He saw Peter's face look down on him. Peter looked about as confused as Neal felt. Peter noticed the panicked look on Neal's face didn't go away and he didn't look like he believed Peter either.

"Ok…Ok…so maybe one or two times the thought has crossed my mind, but this is not one of those times. Elle, June and I are all here to help because we are concerned about you. Why do you think I would want to kill you?"

"Elle. You're mad about Elle."

Neal was desperately trying to breathe while pushing the panic down in his chest and concentrate on how happy he would be when he saw Kate.

"You thought I was mad about Elle?"

The light bulb went on in Peter's head. He realized Neal was having a panic attack because he thought Peter would be furious enough about the wine bottle to attempt bodily harm. He also reflected, quite accurately, that when it came to Elle and her safety he did have a tendency to overreact; poor Neal. Peter actually felt worse for him than he had a few minutes ago.

"Neal, you're safe. I'm not going to hurt you, or kill you, or whatever is going through your mind. I'm not going to arrest you or put you back in prison either. Is that ok?"

Peter wasn't so sure that Neal comprehended that statement from the look on his face.

"It's ok Peter, I'm not mad at you. I hurt Elle; I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hurt Kate either, but now I can be with her. It's ok."

Peter was now coming to the conclusion that maybe Neal had drunk more than the bottle of Merlot…maybe he had overdosed on some kind of medicine or pills as well; that in itself was a dangerous combination and might explain why Neal was really behaving strangely.

"Neal, we just want to be here for you. Kate was a very important part of your life, and now she's gone, but you're still here and June, Elle and I are here for you as well. You're not alone. We want to help you, not hurt you. I know that you didn't mean to hurt Elle with the wine bottle."

"You did something. I saw you standing there, and then I was on the floor. What did you do to me?"

"Neal, I didn't do anything. I came to check on you, and you fainted. I think you've had too much to drink, and you must have taken some pills. That's not a good combination. You really need to rest. I promise I won't kill you in your sleep."

Peter helped Neal back to bed, but noticed that his comment didn't seem to cheer Neal up. Once Peter made sure that Neal was safely under the covers, he motioned to Elle and June, who had come in from the terrace, that they should leave Neal alone to sleep.

"Neal, if you need anything we'll be downstairs."


	4. Chapter 4

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

Chapter 4

_Later that evening…_

Neal woke up and noticed it was dark in his apartment. He didn't hear anything and realized he was all alone. He remembered Peter and Elle had been there earlier, or at least he thought so. His mind seemed to be a little clearer. What had Peter told him?

_I think you've had too much to drink and you must have taken some pills. That's not a good combination._

Well, that would explain a few things…Neal got out of bed, and wandered down the stairs to see if June was still up.

"How are you feeling?"

Neal looked over to see Peter, Elle and June seated in June's living room. It must not be too late then, or they wouldn't still be here.

"I'm feeling better Peter. At least I think so."

"That's good to hear. We were all worried."

Peter wanted to see how much Neal actually remembered about the day; to see how bad it had been.

"Do you know why we are both here? Do you remember what happened with Elle?"

"Honestly, I don't remember Peter; I don't remember much about the day, just bits and pieces."

Neal noticed that Elle had band-aids on both arms, and her cheeks looked a bit scratched up, but there wasn't any blood. He remembered blood, why was there blood? He felt the blood draining away from his face.

"I threw the wine bottle and it almost hit Elle…and you…"

Neal looked over at Peter and started trembling as he remembered.

"You were trying to kill me…"

"Neal, I was not trying to kill you. Why do you keep thinking that? We think you had way too much wine either last night or this morning, and you probably took some pills judging by the fact that we found an almost empty bottle of allergy medication on the counter. It's not good to mix the two and your mind was playing tricks on you."

"I don't remember any of that."

Peter noticed that Neal had an embarrassed look on his face and stood up to give him a pat on the shoulder to reassure him it was ok. He then led Neal over to an empty spot on the couch and motioned for him to sit down.

"Why don't we try to fill in some pieces for you. June said Mozzie was here last night, and that both of you were pretty tipsy. This morning when I came by I told you I needed your help on our new case, but you wouldn't get out of bed. I even invited you over for barbecued ribs, and you turned me down telling me you hated Elle's ribs; definitely odd behavior. Elle came around noon to check up on you. You threw the bottle at the door frame when she was walking in. She said you panicked and was trying to comfort you, but you fell asleep in her lap. She alerted June to your strange behavior, and June cleaned up the broken pieces of the bottle. Elle then called me, and I came over as soon as I got out of my meeting. I arrived and found Elle still on the floor with your head in her lap. I carried you to bed, because June and Elle couldn't move you. You took a nap, and when I came to check on you, you were standing in the kitchen area. You apparently thought I was there to kill you because of the wine bottle incident, and got yourself so stressed out you fainted."

"But I remember you asked me about a street? I thought something bad was going to happen there, I thought you were going to…"

Neal trailed off, not willing to finish his thought about Peter wanting him dead. He was still having a hard time believing that Peter wasn't going to physically hurt him in return for hurting Elle.

"Neal, look at me. It's a painting, not a location for me to kill you. I knew you were completely out of it, otherwise you would have known right away what painting I was talking about. However, I will admit that yes, I was mad about the wine bottle. Yes, I did want to punish you, but Elle, as usual, pointed out the error of my ways before I overreacted."

"So, what did she actually say?"

Peter felt he had scored a victory to at least get Neal more involved in the conversation rather than wallowing in his own self-pity.

"She punched me in the shoulder and threatened me with sleeping on the couch."

Neal looked over at Elle, and she nodded her head slightly as if agreeing that what Peter said was true. Peter's tone also had a touch of pride for his wife; she knew him too well. Neal gave a slight chuckle that relieved Peter immensely; maybe Neal was coming back to himself, albeit very slowly. Peter lifted Neal's chin so that he could look directly in his eyes.

"You are the best partner I've ever had. None of those Harvard grads could ever compete with you. None! You're still stuck with me for another 3 years. This is not the end of the world and I know you make a difference."

Elle gave Neal a big smile, and leaned over to give him a hug. He didn't push her away, and there were no tears streaming down his cheeks this time; Elle took that as a good sign.

"Seriously, Neal, we just wanted to help. I admit though, sitting on the floor with you surrounded by glass shards was not the way I had my day planned, but you are more important than my catering plans. They could wait another day."

Neal spoke softly, and almost shyly.

"Thank you Elle. Peter…June. I don't know what I would do without you all."

"Oh, Neal, honey, it really was no problem. We're just glad you are feeling better."

This time it was June that reached over and gave him a hug.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews! They are greatly appreciated!**

**Chapter 5**

The next morning, Peter sat down at his desk across from Neal and shoved a folder toward him. Neal didn't reach for it.

"So, now that you have me cornered, what can I help you with?"

"It's about the painting called 'The Little Street.' You know, the place where you thought I was going to kill you. You've heard of it?"

Neal didn't miss Peter's sarcastic tone. He looked up at Peter and gave him a nasty glare.

"I haven't completely lost my mind, Peter, just a few hours. Of course, I've heard of it. It's painted by a famous Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer, in 1658. No one knows where the painting location was, but some consider it to be Delft. It's oil on canvas, and it is currently on display at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. It was donated in 1921."

Peter had to admit that yet again he was impressed with Neal's breadth of knowledge regarding anything to do with art.

"Yes, well, we believe it has been switched out. We think the one currently in the Rijksmuseum is a forgery."

"And why would you think that?"

"Open the folder."

Neal reached for the folder. He perused the pictures and police reports. Peter was grateful that Neal was finally showing more interest, because he really did need his expertise.

"It probably would have gone undetected, except that a person of interest that we have been watching for quite a while and has been suspected of several forgeries was recently killed in a pedestrian/automobile accident here in New York City. The daughter while going through her father's belongings noticed a painting wrapped up in a corner and recognized it as a Vermeer."

"Are we sure the daughter isn't in on the family business?"

"She was the one that got the police involved. She had apparently known about the shady side of her father's life. Fortunately for us I guess, the police didn't want to muddy international waters, so the case belongs to the FBI at the moment, but we are to keep the Dutch authorities involved as to our progress."

"How fortunate."

Neal looked less than thrilled, and Peter was fairly sure that Neal had probably had a run in or two with the very same Dutch authorities in the past and wasn't too excited to renew any acquaintances. Then he noticed a dramatic change in Neal's demeanor as he sported a wide smile.

"You don't think we would be able to travel to the Netherlands do you? I would just love to visit the Rijksmuseum again. Did you know that it opened in 1885? The most famous painting there is just huge; it covers almost an entire wall. It's popularly known as The Night Watch, but its actual title is _Company of Captain Frans Banning Cocq and Lieutenant Willem van Ruytenhurch. _It waspainted by Rembrandt van Rijn in 1642. Now that is what art is all about."

"Neal, as impressive as that is, you are misdirecting again. I don't want you within 100 miles of the Rijksmuseum, or the Louvre, or any other famous European museum. I have enough problems keeping you out of trouble in your 2 mile radius here in New York City!"

Peter tried to sound annoyed, but Neal acted like such a kid with boundless enthusiasm when discussing art. Peter just hated stifling that enthusiasm. He felt bad when he could obviously see Neal's ego deflate, but wasn't sure if it was an act or not.

"We are going to meet with Amber Van Nuys, the daughter. Her father's name is Jacob Van Nuys. He's the pedestrian that was killed."

"_We_ are going to meet her? I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Neal ignored the question and asked one of his own. He didn't think Peter would take the bait, but he really really didn't want to discuss the issue.

"So, Mr. Van Nuys is dead right?"

"You make that sound like it's a good thing. What's going on?"

"Yeah, well, um, let's just say it's a good thing he's dead."

Peter just glared at Neal.

"What? I didn't kill him. You said he was killed in a traffic accident. I couldn't possibly have orchestrated that, although you might want to check into Keller on that one."

Peter did not look amused. He didn't put it past Neal to have something to do with this missing painting, and he really did not want to be thinking about Keller or about someone else that Keller might have gotten involved with to be able to kill Van Nuys with a car.

"Would this have anything to do with the forgery at the Rijksmuseum or did you just not like the guy?"

"Could possibly be both."

"Why don't you want to meet with the daughter? From those photos, she seems to be quite the looker."

Peter paused, trying to figure out what it was with this lady that had Neal on edge.

"What, no comment about the lady? I'm sure you could charm her into telling you more about her father. We need to make progress before I have the Dutch authorities breathing down my neck!"

"I can't go with you Peter. I will work on whatever mortgage fraud paperwork you can give me."

"Now I know that something is wrong. You know the lady don't you? What happened? Did she dump you, the great Neal Caffrey?"

Peter looked at the shocked expression on Neal's face.

"That is what happened isn't it? Why would she dump you and why would you want her father dead?"

"I didn't say I wanted him dead, I just said I'm not sorry he's dead."

Peter was too good an FBI agent and had been following Neal much too long not to see the connection here.

"Let me guess, the forgery at the Rijksmuseum is yours isn't it? Did Van Nuys double cross you before you could double cross him?"

Neal didn't say a word. He could see Peter figuring it out. He realized even if Peter hadn't wanted to kill him before, he might seriously consider it now.

"Yes. That's it. You worked with him and fell for his daughter. You were going to double cross him, but somehow Amber found out. Van Nuys somehow double crossed you and you ended up without the painting or the girl."

"No comment Peter. You can't pin this on me."

"Neal, if they find your initials on that forgery, I can't protect you. You _will_ go back to prison."

"It's really sweet that you worry about me."

"You didn't deny my accusation Neal."

"I had nothing to do with the theft Peter."

"So, in Nealese, that means you were not the thief that took the painting down from the wall and vacated the premises with the original in tow. My guess is you were the thief that inserted the forgery into the frame. Hence, you were 'returning' and not stealing."

"Wow. Peter. That's very perceptive of you. Unfortunately, there's no evidence to back up that theory."

"You'd better hope there's not or our partnership is over."


	6. Chapter 6

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 6:

"Peter, you said you wanted to help me, not hurt me. You, Elle and June all promised that you would help me, that I could depend on you, no matter what. As if it isn't bad enough that I've obviously failed two women in my life, now you have to go bring up another woman that I haven't thought of in years. This is not helping me!"

"Neal, I'm sorry. This is not something I did deliberately to hurt you; it just happened. I'm sure you've heard the phrase 'Your sins will find you out?' This is something you have to deal with. We _are_ here to support you, but this, Neal…this is out of my control. I cannot impede an FBI investigation simply because something may implicate you. You had to have known something like this could happen."

"If this is the way you think you are helping me, then just back off. Ok? I don't need your help."

Neal grabbed his fedora and stalked out of Peter's office; almost running into Jones. Peter saw him get into the elevator and hit the down button, presumably to get some fresh air and clear his head.

Jones came up the stairs with a curious look on his face and stepped into Peter's office.

"What was that all about?"

"Neal has taken a strong dislike to our new case and apparently to me. I'm not exactly sure what is going on, but apparently I hit a nerve."

"Anything you need me to track down?"

"I'm not worried about him setting off his anklet, but I do need you to run a profile on this woman who reported the missing Vermeer. Her name is Amber Van Nuys. I want to know everything about her."

"Not a problem Peter."

Jones turned to leave Peter's office and noticed a gorgeous brunette enter through the glass doors and stop by Diana's desk. She asked a question and was pointed up to Peter's office.

Jones gave a low whistle and Peter raised his head to see what was going on.

"Wow. I wonder who that is; looks like she's heading this way Peter."

"I have no idea who she is."

Jones met her at the top of the stairs.

"Are you looking for Peter?"

"Yes, actually I am. Are you Peter?"

"No. Clinton Jones, ma'am. Pleased to meet you."

He briefly shook her hand and pointed out Peter's office.

The lady turned around to see that Peter had come to the door of his office to meet her.

"I'm Agent Peter Burke. How may I help you?"

"My name is Amber Van Nuys. I was told you are the lead agent on my father's case."

"Yes, that's right. Why don't we sit down."

Peter gestured toward his guest chair that Neal usually occupied.

"I was planning on visiting you myself, but I see you are one step ahead of me."

"I am most anxious to clear up matters regarding my father's estate. It has caused me no small amount of shame to find the original Vermeer among my father's possessions. You must accept my apologies Agent Burke. I wish to make matters right for all parties involved."

"That's very admirable Ms. Van Nuys. We are just trying to figure out what had transpired to allow your father to have the Vermeer in his possession undetected for many years."

"It is a shameful story I'm afraid Agent Burke and I feel partly responsible. I came here because I hoped you might understand. I knew that my father was a thief, but he was just trying to support our family. It was seven years ago already and we were living in Amsterdam. We had fallen on hard times; my father had lost his job. I was in college, but I dropped out because we couldn't afford it anymore. My mother left us and took my two little brothers to live with her family. I stayed behind because I was older and was fortunate to get a job through one of my father's friends who worked in security at the Rijksmuseum. I was a tour guide. It was on one of those tours that my life was changed and I have yet to forgive myself."

Ms. Van Nuys looked like she was about to cry. Peter was feeling extremely uncomfortable, but managed to hand her a tissue.

"May I ask what it was that was so terrible?"

She looked up with tears in her eyes and she spoke quietly almost as if she was afraid someone other than Peter would hear.

"It was a man by the name of Neal Caffrey…"


	7. Chapter 7

**A Reason to Live**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: as usual, please review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 7

"Amber, this is very important. You said that this happened seven years ago, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Ok. After you had gone out with Neal several times you said you took him on a tour of the Rijksmuseum. What did you show him?"

"I just took him through all the exhibits, we met Dad's friend who worked in security and exchanged pleasantries. I swear I didn't tell him anything security related. I would never do that, I loved my job. Neal seemed very interested in the museum, and his knowledge of art always impressed me. That was one of the things I just loved about him."

Peter noted that she looked a bit embarrassed after she said that. Neal certainly had a way with women.

"Did you ever see Neal painting? Anything that would have made you suspect that he might be forging something to take to the museum?"

"Well, he always loved to sketch, he made several of me that I've kept, but nothing that ever made me suspicious. He and my dad got along very well, until…well, I had always assumed they just had a common interest in art. I had no idea what they had in mind, until one day I was at home in my room. I had called in sick that day, but I never told Dad. I just stayed in my room. Neal came over and he and my Dad started talking about the paintings in the Rijksmuseum. Neal said that he wanted to help and they started discussing museum security and which paintings would be the easiest to steal, but yet worth the most money. I couldn't hear all the details; they weren't talking loud enough, but I'm sure they never knew I was there."

"Did you actually see Neal?"

"No, I never came out of my room. I didn't want them to know I was there. I was so mad at my Dad and Neal. I had trusted both of them. Several days later I told Neal I couldn't see him anymore because I knew what he was going to do. He never asked me how I found out. I told Dad's friend in security what I thought would happen, but he must have been in on it, because nothing was ever done. The museum never reported the robbery. I didn't know if they even knew. It wasn't too long after I had overheard the conversation and broke up with Neal that Dad told me we needed to move out of the country. I asked him why and he said we could never come back, he seemed very upset about it. I assumed that meant he and Neal had been successful, but that someone knew and was chasing us. We moved from place to place, and Dad and I both had jobs here and there to keep food on the table. I know he kept stealing, just to provide for us. I thought it was strange, because Dad had assured me that we were about to have a better life. He wouldn't tell me directly, but I knew why. I don't know what happened, but we never got the windfall of money that he and Neal had discussed. He never spoke of Neal again, so I assumed that Neal had taken off with the painting and didn't give my dad his share of the money. I didn't even know Dad still had it until I was going through his things, and it brought back all of these painful memories. I hope you understand…I had to tell someone."

"Is there any evidence you might still have that would tie Neal to this theft? Anything at all?"

"I know he did it Agent Burke and I know my Dad was with him. I just can't tell you when they did it. I don't have anything in writing. I never actually filed a written report at the museum. I thought it would look bad to write a report accusing your father and your boyfriend of conspiring to rob a museum; I couldn't do it. I loved both of them too much. Please understand. I don't have anything else except the pictures Neal drew of me."

"Why are you here Ms. Van Nuys? Is it just to tell me about the painting, or are you looking for Neal as well?"

"I've never tried looking for him Agent Burke. I wouldn't know what to say to him if I did, but I'm sure it was because of him that my father and I had to leave the Netherlands. I just can't prove anything."

"I can't prosecute him on this evidence Ms. Van Nuys. It's all hearsay…all circumstantial. I need something physical that will tie him to the crime; otherwise it's your word against his."

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help in that regard. I just didn't want anyone to think that I had anything to do with the theft of this painting. I want it returned to the museum as soon as possible. I wanted to tell someone the truth, but I didn't know if there was anything that could be done after all these years."

"It's no wonder you two never worked out."

"Excuse me? I'm not sure what you meant."

"I'm sorry, I was just in awe. It is so seldom that I actually get to speak with a person that wants to tell the truth and doesn't have ulterior motives. I tracked Mr. Caffrey myself for several years and I can assure you, he _is_ quite the charmer. Please don't feel guilty that you were under his spell."

"I won't. Thank you again Agent Burke. It has been a pleasure speaking with you. Please let me know if I can be of any further assistance. Here's my card."

Peter reached out to take the card and shook her hand.

"My pleasure, Ms. Van Nuys. Thank you for coming in. Do you know the way out?"

"Yes, I'll be fine, thank you."

Amber Van Nuys turned and left Peter's office feeling an immense weight lifted off her chest.

##

Neal was fuming as he rode the elevator back up to the 21st floor. How of all times, did this case suddenly appear on Peter's desk? After all these years, it still made Neal feel guilty. He reminded himself that Van Nuys had turned on him; he was just fortunate he had escaped at all. Neal pushed through the double glass doors and saw a woman of medium height with long dark hair shaking Peter's hand. As she turned, Neal gasped in recognition…it couldn't be. He wasted no time darting to the left to hide in the file shelving. He absorbed himself in finding a case file he didn't need while his eyes, concealed beneath his fedora, carefully observed the lady that was just leaving.

##

"Thought I might find you here."

Peter scared Neal so bad that Neal literally jumped. The file he had been holding fluttering to the ground.

"A little jumpy aren't we?"

"Still not helping, Peter!"

"From the look on your face, I'd say you recognized the lady that just left my office."

Peter looked Neal straight in the eye, daring him to lie.

"She may or may not have looked familiar."

"She came here to tell the truth Neal, something you might want to consider doing before I personally haul your butt back to jail based on her story."

"She couldn't possibly have had any evidence on me."

"You really believe you are that good, don't you?"

"Could we maybe talk about this in a more private area, say like your office?"

"Neal, this is the FBI, all the walls have ears."

"Point well taken."

"We can talk in my office with the door closed."

"I didn't say I wanted the door closed Peter. I don't need you trying to kill me twice in the same week. I'd like an escape route."

"So you admit there might be something worth killing you over?"

"I'd say there is a distinct possibility and I'm definitely not drunk or on medication this time."

"You know, I told you that I had considered it once or twice, well, it's looking like the third time might be the charm."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: Reviews make me happy!

Chapter 8:

"I really don't have a death wish Peter."

"Too bad. When June, Elle and I were talking at June's place while you were sleeping off whatever alcohol and drugs you had in your system, June suggested that in order to help you cope after Kate's death _we_ needed to find a reason for _you_ to live. Both Elle and I agreed, but now the tables have turned. I need _you_ to convince _me_. Why should I spare you? Convince me why you are so valuable; why I shouldn't follow these leads."

"What did Amber tell you?"

"That's for me to know and you to never find out. I could consider her a confidential informant or possibly classify it at a higher security level. Either way, you don't really need to know."

"I know you too well Peter, if you had anything on me you would be duty bound to arrest me right now."

"The wheels of justice grind slowly. I wouldn't underestimate me."

"Touché."

"Why did you take the painting?"

"We discussed this earlier; I had nothing to do with the theft of the painting."

"Semantics, Neal, Semantics. I know you were in the museum. I know that Jacob Van Nuys was your partner in this theft. I know that somehow he ended up with the Vermeer in his possession, and your forgery is hanging on the wall in the Rijksmuseum."

Neal stood up and walked around the desk to Peter, extending his hands together in front of him.

"Show me the evidence and you can arrest me. No guns, no fanfare, just peaceful like the last time."

"You're not even going to try and defend yourself are you?"

"There's no point Peter, you are obviously convinced I did this. You keep telling me you are indifferent to my charm, so clearly it's a waste of breath. All I'm asking for is proof. Have they taken down the alleged forgery in the Rijksmuseum? Have they found any initials?"

"Neal, you are putting me in a very difficult position here. I asked you to give me a reason why I should care. Do you want to live, or do you want to rot to death back in prison? I'm tending toward the latter."

"Are you going to arrest me or not?"

"Neal, at this moment, I really wish I _could_ shoot you and be done with it. It's people like you who make a laughing stock out of the phrase 'innocent until proven guilty'."

Neal lowered his hands, confident Peter wasn't going to arrest him or shoot him.

"Could we maybe stick with poison or drugs or something a little less violent? I'd really hate for the blood to ruin my suit. You'd have to explain it to June."

Neal noticed that Peter was about to blow a blood vessel in his forehead; he really hadn't meant to make him that mad.

"JONES!"

Jones came running up the stairs, taking in Peter's face about to have a coronary, and Neal's look of slight boredom.

"You are to stay with Caffrey until I return. Understood? No exceptions!"

"Yes, sir."

Peter stormed down the stairs.

"Peter!"

Peter turned around to see Neal leaning over the railing giving him the double finger point.

"You don't get to do that."

"Just come back here for a minute. Ok? Are you really going to try and get a warrant to search my place?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"O come on, Peter. It's written all over your face. You're dying to get evidence on me."

"I am not 'dying' for this evidence Neal, I'm doing my job and following leads."

"Well then let me make this easy on you. Stop wasting the time waiting for a judge, go search my place yourself. I'll even call June and tell her to expect you."

"What kind of con are you pulling now, Neal?"

"I'm trying to be cooperative. You're treating me like I'm a hostile witness and there's no need for that."

"You'd better not be sending Mozzie over there first."

"If he is over there he'll be drinking my wine or fast asleep on the couch. Be careful. He scares easily. You do know you're not going to find anything, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the same thing you said to Sara Ellis; am I right?"

"That was an unfortunate miscommunication. I'm glad you got that cleared up."

"Neal, this time I won't be pressuring anyone to drop any charges. Is that understood? I _will_ let them arrest you."

"You let them arrest me last time."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, Oh. I have a _great_ idea! I should come over for dinner tonight, you know, Elizabeth could grill her barbecued ribs. My place would be vacant for whomever to search. I bet Jones and Diana could handle that. You could sit at your table and watch me eat ribs and of course you and Elle would eat to."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What? You don't like your wife's ribs? How is this not a win-win situation for both of us? I get Elle's mouth-watering delicious ribs and you get to search my place. How's that for give and take. I mean could it actually work out any better? I know Elle would love to see me."

"Let me think about it. I need some air."

Peter turned around and walked out the door, hitting the down button on the elevator a little harder than necessary. Working with Neal was definitely elevating his blood pressure and he knew his doctor was going to have words with him at his next physical if he didn't learn to calm down.

Back in the office Jones looked curiously at Neal.

"Care to explain?"

"Not really."

"Let me guess, it has something to do with your new case, and that dark haired lady that came in earlier?"

"Jones, you really need to stop hanging around with Peter so much. He's beginning to wear off on you."

"So, Peter had me check out this lady; pretty impressive. She's an art restorer and works at a small museum here in New York City. She and her father have lived here for a few years. Clean record, no priors. She doesn't seem the type to run with your crowd though. Her father is another story though. I'm guessing you're more familiar with his line of work."

"I don't need to be babysat Jones, believe it or not, I actually am an adult too."

"See, unlike you, I actually like Peter, and when he asks me to do a favor, I do it. I don't go off complaining or whining about how unfair something is."

"Who said I didn't like Peter?"

"Yeah, I can see you've got that mutual respect thing going here. First you storm off in a cloud of dust, and then a while later he does the same thing. You two really need to get your buttons changed so that you don't keep setting each other's off."

"Cute analogy Jones. Appreciate it."

"I'm serious."

"Never doubted you for a minute."

"I can see why Peter left."

"Come on Jones, I couldn't possibly be _that_ annoying!"

"DIANA!"

"Ok. Ok. I apologize. I really don't want her kicking my butt. I swear I'll behave."

Diana appeared at the door, looking curiously at Jones.

"Sorry to bother you, It's nothing I can't handle. Never mind."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

As Diana went back to her desk, Jones turned back to Neal, who still had that annoyingly innocent look on his face.

"Neal, you don't have the slightest clue how to behave."

"I'm a quick learner."

"It's not about learning Neal, it's about doing…and doing it for more than 5 minutes."

"Oh, right. I can see the problem there."

"So, what is Peter so mad about?"

"We were having a not-so-hypothetical discussion about one of my alleged works. I told him he would be duty bound to arrest me if he had evidence of this alleged heist. He didn't. I'm not sure if he was mad that he didn't have evidence, or mad because I told him to arrest me and he wouldn't. It's all very confusing."

"Yeah, I'm becoming familiar with that feeling."

"You know, we could go out and get some fresh air; that would be really nice."

"Very funny Neal."

"Seriously Jones. Peter didn't say we had to stay here, he just said you had to stay with me. So, if you want fresh air, I'm not turning down the opportunity."

"I'm not about to let you two cross paths if he's down there."

"Yeah, I guess that could get a little messy, but I'm sure you would protect me. Peter was threatening to shoot me earlier. You could stand in front of me, and I'm sure Peter wouldn't shoot through you. I told him to use something a little less bloody like poison or such. I mean really, shooting someone lacks class; it's much too messy, and it would ruin my suit."

"Peter's really going to owe me for this."

"You think so?"

"I know so. So what did you say that made Peter run off like this?"

"Well, there were several things; I'm just not sure which one of them actually did it."

Neal noticed a slight smile on Jones' face, but commended the agent for keeping his laughter to himself.

"Ahhh…and you just agreed to let him search your place?"

"Did you see the look on his face? Priceless. He was completely bewildered that I would actually let him search my place without forcing him to get a search warrant. He feels obligated to track down certain leads from this very attractive brunette and he's afraid he'll find something to implicate me and end our partnership."

"You don't seem to be worried at all."

"No reason to be. There's nothing there. As if I would be dumb enough to endanger June by storing questionable items on the premises."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: It's so not fun to write about a fireplace, and then not have one to relax by! Anyway, let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 9**

"How can you possibly be enjoying this?"

Peter had returned to his office to find Neal sitting in his chair with his feet on his desk.

"Peter, despite what I may have said earlier when I was obviously not in the correct frame of mind, Elle makes the best barbecued ribs in the city; how could I not be excited?"

"I WASN'T TALKING ABOUT THE RIBS!"

"Oh, right, what were we discussing again?"

"You are the most egotistical, narcissistic, vain, conceited, self-absorbed, arrogant, smug person I have ever had the displeasure of working with!"

"Wow. I didn't realize we were talking about me, but that's an impressive list of vocabulary words Peter. Can you spell them all?"

"Neal, enough already; I can't work like this. I cannot work with you right now. My blood pressure can't take it."

Neal pondered this, not believing Peter was actually serious.

"So, do I need to go anywhere to pick up some blood pressure pills for you?"

"Neal, get out of my office right now! Do not come back until you hear from me. Understood? Yes, I will be searching your apartment myself and no, I do not want to have dinner with you this evening.

##

It was finally beginning to sink in that maybe Peter really was serious. Neal wasn't sure what to think about that; maybe Peter just needed to calm down. Of course, Peter had never really threatened him to such an extent before about ending their partnership. Neal wasn't concerned at all about Peter finding anything; his stash was securely stored where no one could find it - not even Mozzie. The flap over the missing FAA package was an oversight on his part, and he hadn't done a very good job of hiding it.

He decided to go on the offensive and plead his case with Elle. Perhaps he could convince her to make her famous barbecued ribs and tell her it was a surprise for Peter; she might just go along with that.

##

"Hello?"

"Hey, Elle. It's Neal."

"How are you doing?"

"Much better, thanks for asking."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that I've been worried about you."

"Yeah, thanks. I wanted to apologize for my barbecued ribs comment; I hope you didn't take it personally. I clearly wasn't myself. I didn't mean it, and I want to make up for it. Would you be willing to make them for me? I'm even willing to contribute a bottle of wine for the occasion. Would it be possible to do it yet tonight?"

"Well, I had planned on making spaghetti, but I can definitely change plans. Are you still at the office? Any idea when Peter might be home?"

"Ah, no, I'm at home right now, but I can come over whenever you want. I'm not sure how long Peter would be. I know he had plans out of the office. He had a rough day, so I thought barbecued ribs would be a nice surprise, and I could apologize to you for my rude comments the other day. You know kinda kill two birds with one stone."

"Oh, ok. Why don't you come over around 5:30 p.m."

"Sound good Elle. Thanks!"

##

Neal and Elle were standing outside sipping some of the wine Neal had brought over. They were occasionally checking the ribs on the grill and waiting for Peter to come home when Elle's cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID.

"Neal, it's Peter, excuse me for just a minute."

"Hey, honey. I'm sorry. I know it's late."

"That's ok. How's it going today? Are you coming home for dinner?"

"I may be a little late. I have something that I need to check out yet; I'm not sure how long it's going to take. Save me some dinner though, I promise it won't be too late."

Elle remembered that Neal had wanted the dinner to be a surprise, so she didn't tell Peter what she was fixing, or that Neal would be joining them.

"Ok. I'll see you then. I love you."

"Love you too, Elle. Bye."

Elle walked back outside to the grill, and saw Neal inspecting the ribs to see if they were ready.

"Peter said he's going to be a bit late, so we can start eating without him. He wasn't sure how long he'd be."

##

Neal pushed his plate aside. The only evidence of ribs was the slight traces of barbecue sauce smeared around the plate.

"That was simply delicious. I can't believe I ever said I didn't like them."

"I didn't believe that for a minute when Peter told me. I knew something was wrong even before that happened."

"Elle, I wanted to thank you for what you did for me the other day. I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I'm sorry."

"Neal, I understand what you were going through. It's just horrible; no one should have to go through that."

"Thank you for sitting with me. It couldn't possibly have been comfortable to sit on the floor like that, especially with all the glass around you. I wanted to tell you…it made me feel safe, kind of a warm fuzzy feeling."

"I'm just glad you're feeling better."

"You know, Peter told me what June said about giving me a reason to live. You, Peter and June…you do make me feel alive, you make me want to live; I just didn't realize it at the time. When I was with Kate, she…she made me feel like a raging inferno, like a roaring fire that couldn't be quenched, and that made me feel alive! When she died, I felt like a useless pile of ashes. I didn't think I had anything left to give. When I'm around you and Peter and even June, it's like I'm wrapped in blankets next to a soothing fireplace that crackles and pops. It's safe and controlled; warm and inviting. It's a totally different feeling than with Kate, but I like it, and I wanted to let you know how much you have helped already."

Elle put her hand on his, and looked into his eyes.

"I'm so glad Neal; so glad that you are coming back to life."

"I didn't feel like I had any dignity left. I know I was a complete mess, and yet you stayed; you held me. I will never forget that. I know you know I'm a thief and a conman, and I was always scamming someone, but when you, June and even Peter came into my life, you all made it so much better and I'm grateful. Please remember that. I finally have actual friends who didn't abandon me when my world came tumbling down."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Neal, but why do I get the sense it almost seems like you're saying goodbye?"

"Peter doesn't want to work with me anymore. He told me so himself. He actually ordered that I leave his office; that's why I was at home so early. I swear there isn't any evidence, but Peter seems bound and determined to find something so that he can throw me back in jail, where he thinks I belong."

"That's ridiculous Neal, you know Peter trusts you. He really likes having you as a partner."

"After today Elle, I'm pretty sure that's not the case."

Both Neal and Elle heard the key in the lock, and both assumed it was Peter. Neal grabbed his hat.

"I've got to go. Thanks for the ribs, Elle."

Neal was out the back door before Elle had a chance to say anything in return.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

**A/N: Don't say that I don't listen to your opinion, so I will post something more when I have a chance. Just not sure when that will be.**

**Chapter 10**

Peter opened the front door and saw his wife sitting at the table.

"So, what did you make tonight? I'm famished."

"There's some left over barbecued ribs and some salad."

Peter stopped when he saw the two dirty plates on the table.

"That doesn't look like a plate for me…Who was here Elle? Why are there two dirty plates on the table?"

"You generally are licking your lips when I mention my ribs. What's got you so upset honey?"

She stood, walked the few steps over to him, and gave him a kiss on the lips.

"It's nothing Elle, why are there two dirty plates? Who came over?"

Elle seemed to hesitate as if she wasn't sure that Peter really wanted to know.

"It was Neal. He called me and asked me to make barbecued ribs to surprise you. He wanted to apologize for his negative comments about them the other day. He even brought over a bottle of wine to say he was sorry."

"So, he goes after my wife."

Peter just shook his head in disbelief, and then realized that it was all too believable. Of course, that is exactly what Neal would do in a situation like this; get Elle on his side with a sob story and play her against him. Peter decided he didn't want to look in a mirror, for fear that _all_ the hair on his head had turned gray.

"Peter, he just came here to say thank you for the other day. He told me how much it meant to him and how grateful he is for our support."

"Don't let him fool you Elle. He hasn't changed. He's as conniving as ever."

"No, Peter. He has changed. Why don't you want to be his partner anymore?"

Peter couldn't hide the shocked expression on his face.

"I should have known he would get to you."

"Get to me? Peter, I told you he came here to apologize. We were discussing some things about what happened the other day. I noticed that it was almost like he was saying thank you and goodbye. I asked him why. He said that you didn't want to be partners with him anymore. I can only assume that he thinks you are sending him back to jail. Why would you do that to him?"

"It's this case we are working on; the case I needed his help on the other day when he wouldn't get out of bed. It's about a painting that I know he forged, but I don't have any proof. I even had a witness come forward with a statement that implicates Neal, but I can't use it because I can't find any other evidence. It's her word against Neal's."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Neal as much as admitted it today, but he so successfully skirts around the issue that I can't use it as a confession! I have nothing to show for it. It's just as frustrating as when I was chasing him; then I couldn't even find him; much less any proof. Now he can be sitting in my office with a smirk on his face, goading me, discussing alleged works of art and I still can't do anything about it!"

"Um, honey…you did catch him...twice. You knew he was a forger, right? So, common sense would lead me to believe that he had to have forged something, even many things…this should not be a surprising revelation to you. I think you're upset because you were afraid he was going to get caught this time, and there was nothing you could do. You felt obligated to check out the leads that were presented to you, and you would have been obligated to send him back to prison if you had found anything. No one wants to do that to a family member – blood related or otherwise."

Peter reached over and hugged Elle for a very long time.

"I don't deserve you. You know that right?"

"So, let me guess…this search tonight didn't turn up any evidence, did it?"

"No."

"So, why don't you go over and tell Neal that you didn't mean what you said, and that you are very happy that he's your partner."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"No. I mean it Peter. Now. I don't want him throwing any more wine bottles because he's mad about something, and I think he has a right to be mad at you."

"Do you think I should bring a face mask for protection?"

Elle laughed, but Peter actually looked serious.

"I don't think that's necessary, although make sure he's not singing or yelling at the top of his lungs before you open the door…that might be your first clue."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: Hopefully this is the ending you guys were hoping for…let me know what you think.

**Chapter 11**

Peter knocked on the door at June's mansion and the housekeeper answered.

"Good evening again, Agent Burke. Did you forget something?"

It didn't occur to Peter how strange it would look to the housekeeper that he would be back so soon after searching Neal's apartment.

"Good evening. I'm sorry to bother you again, but I was wondering…has Neal come back yet?"

"I have not seen him come back yet this evening sir."

June, having heard Peter's voice, came toward the entryway.

"Peter, what brings you here again?"

"I was looking for Neal. Do you know where he is?"

"Are you here to arrest him?"

"Does it matter?"

"You know Peter it was just a couple days ago that we were sitting here trying to figure out how to help Neal. What on earth were you thinking coming here? Did you pressure Neal into letting you search his apartment without a search warrant?"

"I'm just doing my job. I was presented with more information that directly implicated Neal. I can't just bury it June. I will not impede a federal investigation in progress. It's my duty to find the truth."

"I think you already know the truth Peter. It's the evidence you were looking for."

"I see Byron taught you well. You see a lot of him in Neal don't you?"

"Yes, Peter. I do. Neal is an amazing young man, and he deserves more respect than you are giving him."

"I'm just doing my job June."

"Maybe that's what you should be explaining to Neal…what exactly does 'doing your job' mean and why are you doing it without Neal? He wants to be your partner. He was the one that requested the deal, remember? He likes working with you. He doesn't need you to prove what he was; you already know that. What he needs now is for you to accept who he is and, most importantly, who he is without Kate."

Peter felt bad enough the way it was and he did not want to continue this conversation with June.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you this evening. I'll see you later."

Peter turned and walked out the door.

##

"Jones, I need tracking data on Caffrey. Where is he right now?"

Peter could hear the keys clicking as Jones typed in the request.

"He's located at 1 Rockefeller Plaza. I think there's a wine bar there he frequents."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it. Morrell Wine Bar & Café. Thanks Jones. Go home; call it a night."

##

Peter walked into the wine bar, and it took him several seconds to scan the crowd looking for Neal. His eyes finally rested on him sitting in a booth in the back corner with his back facing to Peter. Peter walked a little closer; hoping he was still undetected. As Peter got closer he could hear Neal talking and wondered who he was talking to. After two more steps Peter realized it was Neal's fedora that was sitting on the table across from him. Neal was talking to his fedora?

"You know, this was bound to happen sooner or later."

Neal paused and Peter saw a glass of red wine come up to Neal's lips. He slowly sipped and set the glass back down.

"Just proves planning is the most essential part of the operation. It has to be absolutely foolproof so no evidence is left behind. I mean what does he really think he's going to find? Well, other than further evidence I have a disastrous track record with women, which is not a crime in and of itself."

Neal gave a slight chuckle, and sipped some more wine.

"Maybe he could arrest me for that. He's bound and determined to send me back anyway, so it might as well be for something there's actual proof for. You know what that means…I won't be able to wear you anymore; nope…no more fancy suits, no more of June's Italian Roast…no more beautiful view."

Neal took a longer sip this time, trying to savor the Italian Zenato Merlot for possibly the last time.

"That's the problem here; you like me no matter what. Peter on the other hand…he's too much of an FBI agent. He's too noble; he feels compelled to follow the evidence no matter what. What did you say? How does trust fit into that? He doesn't trust me; he doesn't trust that I've tied up all the loose ends so that nothing points back to me and then he gets all bent out of shape as if he didn't realize I did have a criminal life before working for him. What do you think?"

Neal took another long sip, and regretfully noted that he was almost finished with the glass.

"Yeah. I agree. It's been a good day. Good ribs, good wine, good company…both you and Elle. It's a shame to see it end. I should go home and see how bad the place is. I'm sure Peter tore everything to pieces."

Neal took the last sip, savoring the rich red wine before he set the empty glass down. He reached for his fedora and slipped it on his head. He was about to get up when Peter slid into the bench across from him.

"What, no flashing lights?"

"What are you talking about Neal?"

"Where's the rest of the team; where's the Marshall's? Are we surrounded?"

"Yes Neal, you're surrounded. Why don't you make my job easier and try to run."

Neal didn't miss the sarcasm in Peter's voice.

"Nah, I think I've had too much wine. What kind of evidence did you find?"

"Pretty busy here tonight. Lots of people; must be a good place."

"We're not surrounded. You didn't find any evidence."

"Look at all the people here; we are definitely surrounded, just not by FBI agents or U.S. Marshalls."

"So why are you here? Did you want to see me gloat? You know…about how good I am or how obnoxious I am."

"I saw you talking to your hat. I was concerned for your mental well-being."

"At least my hat doesn't think I'm annoying and tell me to go away."

A look of hurt crossed Peter's face and he didn't say anything for a while. He finally looked up trying to read Neal's face and decide what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry Neal. I've been really stressed these last several days and you have not been helping the situation."

"I was on my way out. Why don't you just leave; we won't have to talk, and I won't have to annoy you. You can go home to Elle and you'll feel much better."

"Elle is actually the reason I'm here."

"Ahh, so it wasn't that you were worried about me…it was Elle."

"Yes…No…I mean both of us are worried about you."

"Touching Peter, really. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go home to clean up whatever mess you've made of my apartment."

"What kind of wine were you drinking?"

"As if you'd care."

"I'm trying to make conversation. I'm trying to show that I do care."

"Why did Elle send you?"

"She wanted me to apologize for kicking you out this afternoon and threatening our partnership because of this case. She wouldn't let me eat any ribs until I found you and apologized. She insisted it had to be now; this evening. Apparently it couldn't wait until morning."

"So your interest in my wine selection was merely so that you could show you cared but didn't have to directly apologize?"

"No, I was interested in what wine you were drinking and what you were drinking it in. Elle told me that as long as you weren't singing or screaming it should be safe to approach you. I didn't see a wine bottle either, so I took a chance."

"Cute."

"Neal, I…I'm…"

Peter was about to say he was sorry and tell Neal he didn't want to end their partnership, but Neal interrupted him before he could finish his thought.

"It's a Zenato 2005 Merlot from Italy. It's special because they manually harvest it, hand sort it and dry it for 30 days. It's supposed to give it a better flavor…So…now you know and now you can leave. I really don't want to hear your apology right now, ok? Go back home. Tell Elle that you found me and that I didn't hurt you. I'm sure she'll be relieved."

"I can't do that Neal."

Neal slid out of the booth anyway and stood up, turning to leave. Peter slid out almost as quickly and grabbed Neal's arm.

"Stop."

"Let go of me Peter; you do not want me to make a scene."

"If you do, I will arrest you for disturbing the peace."

"See there you go…that's all you needed wasn't it? You just wanted me to make a scene so that you could finally stick me with something; very clever Peter. You're right; never underestimate you. So, what do you want me to do; scream? Threaten you? Hmmm? I'd prefer something not bloody."

"You're right. Don't underestimate me. Let's go before you do make a scene."

Peter still had a good grip on Neal's arm and started dragging him to the door. Neal resisted, trying to pull away and protested.

"Peter…NO! LET…ME…GO!"

Neal realized he had said it a bit too loud; the wine was starting to get to him. Peter whipped out his handcuffs and locked it on the wrist he was holding.

"Now you _are_ creating a disturbance. Other wrist. Now."

Neal's face showed shock as Peter reached for the other one and securely locked his wrists in front of him.

"You have the right to remain silent, You know I will use anything you say against you, so I'm begging you, Neal. Shut up!"

Peter walked Neal the rest of the way out of the wine bar, and over to the Taurus. He helped Neal into the passenger side and reached over to lock Neal's seatbelt in while Neal just glared at him. Peter closed the door and slid in on the other side. He started the engine and then looked over at Neal.

"You know you are the only person who could get yourself arrested while someone was trying to apologize to you."

Neal didn't respond, but stared silently out the window. He was expecting Peter to drive over to the FBI offices, but was surprised when Peter pulled up to his own house. Peter came around, let him out of the car, and escorted him up the stairs letting him into the house.

"Hey, Honey. I'm back. May I please have some ribs now?"

Elle got up from the table where she had been working and walked toward Peter seeing Neal standing behind him.

"Sure. I'll warm them up for you."

She gave Peter a quick kiss, and then focused her attention on Neal.

"Neal, it's nice to see you again so soon."

Elle's gaze dropped to Neal's hands; confusion marking her features.

"Honey…why is Neal handcuffed? I told you to apologize. You said you didn't have any evidence to arrest him."

"He was disrupting the peace and he was being annoying."

"So…you didn't apologize?"

"I tried Elle; he wouldn't listen. I wanted to talk to him, but he was insistent on leaving. I tried to stop him so I could apologize but, again, he didn't want to listen. I suggested we go and he resisted. He was making a scene so I arrested him and suggested he use his right to remain silent."

"Peter, how could you?"

"It worked. He didn't say a word all the way back here. I thought it might help if you were here as well…I think you have a more calming effect. Anyway, I'm starving to death, and I _need_ something to eat."

"I cannot believe you did this Peter. All I asked you to do was apologize."

"Which I will attempt again _after_ I eat. Until then I'm going to enjoy the peace and quiet of my home without Neal's annoying comments after every word I try to say."

Peter glared over at Neal to ensure that he meant what he said.

##

Peter was sitting at the table devouring Elle's delicious ribs; enjoying every morsel. He occasionally glanced up to check on Neal who was now sitting on the couch with a stony expression on his face. He still hadn't said a word and Peter was enjoying the silence.

Elle came back in from the kitchen and noticed Peter looking at Neal with suspicion.

"Are you expecting him to escape?"

Peter turned toward his wife and smiled briefly.

"No. Just interested to see how long it takes him to get out of those handcuffs."

"As if I'm dumb enough to do it in front of you."

Both Peter and Elle turned surprised at the first words that came out of Neal's mouth since they had arrived.

"Guess you'll have to wait then."

Peter grinned and Neal looked over at Elle.

"Do I have to put up with this?"

"Neal, Peter is sorry for what happened, ok?"

"He has a funny way of showing it. Mozzie will be hearing about this. He is my legal counsel you know."

Elle laughed and then went over to sit on the couch next to Neal. She put her hand on his shoulder and he shifted slightly to face her.

"I can't disagree with you there Neal. Do you want to know what I told Peter?"

"Does he really need to know Elle?"

"Peter, if you would have apologized the first time, maybe this wouldn't be an issue."

"Please tell me Elle; if only to annoy Peter."

Neal had a smug look on his face, but then noticed that Elle really did look serious.

"I'm sorry Elle, I didn't mean it."

"Peter cares about you Neal. He was afraid that you were going to get caught this time and he was afraid this woman had actual evidence linking you to the case. He doesn't want to lose you as a partner. We think of you as family. It was killing him, but he felt obligated to do his job and pursue all the leads he was given. He gets upset because you have a remarkable tendency to get under his skin at exactly the wrong moment."

Neal marveled at how Elle always knew what to say to him; he knew that he should apologize as well. Neal looked over at Peter, who was wiping his mouth and trying to get all the barbeque sauce off. It _was_ a funny sight.

"I'm sorry Peter. I over-reacted and I pushed you too far. I gave you every reason to eliminate our partnership and I wouldn't blame you if you still wanted to."

Peter got up from the table and walked toward his wife and Neal.

"I don't want it to end. I have the highest case closure rate to defend and this case is closed. There's no more evidence to be found and I guess we'll never know what actually happened…will we? The Rijksmuseum can have their painting back and you and I can move on to other important cases."

"Thank you, Peter. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me."

Peter looked over at Elle glad the conversation was over.

"So what's for dessert?"

Elle stood up and headed for the kitchen with Peter in tow.

"I made some bread pudding after you left, it should still be warm."

Elle was just about to push open the kitchen door with Peter right behind her when she heard the couch creaking. Neal must have stood up.

"Peter? Handcuffs off, please?"

"Don't worry Neal, we'll stay in the kitchen. I'm sure it won't take you too long."


End file.
